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They were joined by two more at the table; a human woman and what Cedess believed to be a leonin, a species he had not encountered before, except on the pages of dusty tomes in his family's study.  

Cedess turned from them both once the masked man spoke up again. Them being on another plane was not that surprising a revelation, all things considered. One of the masked figures having [i]created [/i]the plane however, was a feat worth notice — and indeed, some [i]concern[/i].

He would keep an eye on the woman with the eagle mask.

A servant returned with a chalice in hand, a familiar smell wafting past the rim. He took it, assessing the quality of the liquid within — as well as its origin. Drinking directly out of the servants, as Mortimer suggested, had not even crossed his mind. He did not know [i]where [/i]they had been, and had little desire to ruin his attire besides. 

[color=#B15050]"I should think you rather unqualified to lecture others on dramatics,"[/color] Cedess dragged his free hand in the air in a slow arc, urging the man to remember where they were, and through whose machinations. The people in masks, the feast laid out before them and, beyond all that, the effort that must've gone into creating [i]a realm [/i]for what amounted to a game... now [i]that[/i], he thought as he brought the chalice to his lips, was quite dramatic.[color=#B15050] "Fear not. Just as you don't eat the rats scurrying about your halls, I have no desire to touch your servants."[/color]

Had the blood proved fresh and untainted enough to drink, Cedess would sip it while watching the drama between the self-proclaimed — yet quite eloquent — 'primitive' druid and the masked men unfold.
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